A Daring Rescue
by Thisisfunwhattooksolong
Summary: Gildor leads a team to rescue captives as a battle rages in the background. Very belated entry to the Writer's Guild's unofficial Gildor needs more love challenge.


**Disclaimer:** Among many things  
I own no rights to Lord of the Rings

* * *

Beyond the river beneath the trees,  
between snowed mountains and western seas,  
a caravan halted on the road  
goblins raided it of its load.

From Imladris a group was sent  
To seek the truth of this event,  
and find the culprits in their hive  
and rescue prisoners who may survive.

Leading the mission was an ancient lord  
who stood most proudly with his sword  
that danced in defense of a city so fair  
with his silver armour and golden hair.

Gildor was his name and he would see  
the task through most tenaciously,  
alongside companions most renowned  
at experts of the broken ground  
that formed the bulk of Eriador  
and of the north lands many more.  
Isengrim, a northern ranger and  
the sons of Elrond knew the land  
on which they had the need to go  
swiftly searching high and low  
for where the goblins were located  
and a crisis was abated.

They tracked them far for day and night  
But ne'er could they get in sight,  
for the goblin host so great had cast  
their nets west over distance vast.

For they had still more damage to do  
and all the northern peoples knew,  
to avoid the orcish horde that came  
for meat and slaves - that was there game.

And for such did their trackers pray  
for in such actions their hope lay,  
for successful rescue of any elves  
if goblins wished them for themselves,  
and not discarded in a ditch  
of people who might lack that which  
they needed to work their evil mines  
and man their armour hammering lines.

As time went on their hopes had been  
dashed for none-so-ever had seen  
so great an army in this land  
since the Witch-king declared his hand  
those long centuries ago  
and raised destruction to and fro  
'fore elves and men had won the day  
and foe had scattered far away.

But now two thousand goblins swept  
towards the lands where men had kept,  
their towns and villages and abodes  
by crossroads, two once major roads.

And farms that lay within their route  
had been stripped of all their loot,  
though signs of struggle were often found  
there were no farmers dead or bound.

Isengrim hoped that some had fled  
before the torrent that had led  
itself right up to their front door  
and ripped down their homes and more.

And for sure someone had got clear  
and warned the others of what was near,  
for within Bree the gates were barred  
the towers manned and the walls made hard.

But in Staddle and Archet a cloud of dread  
left good folk's hearts weighed down like lead.  
The days were gone when they'd march proud  
carrying drums and trumpets and songs so loud,  
banners of silver stars fluttering high  
black-armoured lines beneath the sky  
that drove off anything that came  
to kill and harm and raze and maim.  
Now they sheltered from the storm  
and hoped they would avoid the swarm.

And it seemed this time men were in luck -  
for once the goblin mass had stuck  
to northern route across dead plain  
before Fornost where so many were slain.  
Where King Earnur had set out  
to drive Angmar into rout,  
with horses great and men so many  
they were able to shatter any,  
in fair battle a long time past  
where the Witch-king had made his last  
stand ere conceding defeat  
and setting off in swift retreat  
and headed south to hide and cower  
within the fortress they called 'moon's tower'.

Gildor had been at the fight  
that elves and Gondor won for right  
and celebrated with song and cheer  
'bout horses, trees and (for one host), beer.

But for all the good they did that day  
they could not keep the truth away,  
the land was lost, it's seven stars felled  
by that same evil they had quelled.

Yet even now orcs dared not stand  
upon that cursed battle-land.  
Instead they traipsed around the field  
while Gildor made ready his shield  
and went bravely through the bleak  
and desolate lands to chase the meek  
goblins who as yet went still unseen  
by their markers who were getting keen.

Upon a river the orcs' path turned  
downstream southwards they had learned,  
by watching where their footprints went  
along the banks where orcs had spent  
their nights marching on dry land  
of grass that would turn into sand.  
They would not risk the long slither  
on any boat upon that river.

But elves and rangers had no woe  
to them fair waters were no foe  
and on a raft they swept along  
with the twin's craft and Gildor's song.

And for the night they slept away  
taking what rest as they may.  
For they had a variant of sight  
and feared soon that they must fight.

When the tracks went in a veer  
away from the river, they went to peer,  
and came upon a carven town  
within a valley going down  
with pathways baring rounded doors  
ever downwards many floors.

Gildor had ne'er-so-ever spotted  
buildings like those he now plotted  
with sharp elf eyes and an expert ear  
picking up everything there was to hear.

Fires burned and smoke arose  
from out of many clouded windows.  
Foul orcs crowded on dirty roads  
while fields filled with crude abodes  
tents and fences filled their sight  
on the surface of the morning light.

The earth groaned beneath their toes  
the sky was filled with scores of crows  
the stonework sang a song of sadness  
of damage and of wanton madness.

"What is this land?" Gildor spoke light as air  
"No goblin home was ere before so fair  
What manner of village have they come to craft?"  
And from out the grass something laughed.

Not a shrill laugh was it but 'twas in no way  
a funny one either that they got that day.  
It was the hollow laugh that one might use when  
one hears words so stupid they can't do else then.

And out of some grass a figure emerged  
short and stocky and to Gildor he urged  
that he listen to him and his face grew a frown,  
"That place is Oatbarton and it's not their town."

The party listened to his account  
of how the goblins had come to mount  
a swift attack upon their lands  
with barbed arrows and clawed hands.

Of hobbits taken by surprise  
of children and of babies' cries  
of lasses taken within the dome  
that the shirriff called his home.

The sons of Elrond scouted the lay  
of the land to find a way  
within the town to launch their quest  
of rescue though it seemed in jest.

Isengrim too looked 'round for clues  
and saw hope within the ooze  
of the smoke the goblins made  
to sneak within and launch a raid.

Long they waited for their time  
'for chance came with ringing chime  
and many goblins marched off south  
into narrowing fields - an open mouth,

for appearing in their path a host so grand  
of shielded hobbits bearing spears and  
atop steep hills there were many more  
archers and slingers striking for  
all the hope that still stood fast  
if their spearwall should last.

Jet black banners with the seven pies  
mirrored their armour reflecting the skies.  
With the right-flank archers there was sat  
a horsed hobbit with a big bat.  
The goblins stood amazed they'd dare  
to offer battle - arrows filled the air!

The goblin frontline gave a leer  
and charged the hobbits - skewered by spear-  
points. With stones, arrows and much fear,  
elite goblins came up from the rear.

Fearsome warg riders were next defied  
scimitars hung limply by their side  
so with the cranks of gears and nuts and bolts  
the goblins drove next fell towers and catapults.

Gildor's party sat unsure  
of wither to go help them or  
to perform the rescue they'd pledged to action  
and storm the town in the distraction.

It was the hobbit's formation that made their  
choice easy for they could not fare  
their way t'where they could join  
forces with the hobbit's battle line.

But it was with a heavy heart  
that they made their mission start  
for they were abandoning good hobbits to their end;  
the goblin host to large to bend  
and buckle completely to this host  
and to hobbit captain's boast  
as he taunted from the height  
the goblin chieftain in his sight.

He wore a hauberk almost the same  
as his countryman despite his fame  
that with one difference - his sigil was thought slain  
for he bore not pies but the silver star of Arthedain.

And this was their greatest chance yet  
to sneak inside it was the best they could get  
so they turned away from the battle so wanton  
and followed the road into Oatbarton.

They took further advantage to go down  
the slopes leading to the hobbit-town.  
And as they reached it Gildor felt the ground  
speak to him as if welcoming him round.

Remaining goblins came - sounds of battle rang  
but so emboldened Gildor faced them and sang  
\- a song of The Hunter froze with dread the hearts  
of evil creatures hearing his musical arts.

And as he sang a second verse a son  
of Elrond cut them down - the raid had begun.  
With the goblins for now down and out  
he segued to a song of Elbereth this next bout,  
and Lorien and Yavanna the fair  
and birds returned to breath the air  
the grass grew back beneath their feet  
where the hills and the stones did meet.

And on he sung of times long gone  
when Doriath and Nargothrond stood on  
against the greatest ever darkness  
with all the power they could harness.

For his song cleansed as he stepped  
and around him the others crept  
for more goblins soon blocked their way  
but before Elrohir none could stay  
nor Elladan's sword nor Isengrim  
with his thick axe's sharpened rim,  
as they went deeper in the bowl  
to where their goal was in grandest hole.

The roads and pathways twiddled fast  
hobbits weren't the rabble of times gone past.  
These roads and buildings and stone-arched gate  
told them hobbits were now great.  
They'd filled the void that had been left  
when the north kingdom was bereft.

A barbers, a butchers, a greengrocers too  
by comparison Bree had shops too few.  
A healers there was and a pub as well  
and though the goblins had sought to fell  
all the good that within existed  
the hills themselves had resisted.

And as Gildor's sang 'twas heartened anew  
and basked in the beauty that all things knew.  
And then even the paintwork glistened along  
with the window-frames brightening on hearing the song.

At the midpoint of the town a grand gate had stood  
woven of oak and with pine and with other wood  
but though it had once been strong and stout  
it was hewn - goblins set boulders to keep everyone out.

That gate alone was so mistreated  
and the heroes' hearts were greatly heated  
for within the path no doubt gave  
way to the prisoners they'd come to save.

"The way is blocked," Isengrim cried  
"But not for long" the elves replied.  
Gildor hung a note letting power amass  
and then he boomed - a song of Tulkas.

The cursed stone shattered before his roar,  
and Elladan shoved the fragments from the door.  
Within seconds they were inside  
before any goblin had time to hide.

The building was filled with a terrible smell  
of blood and urine and all things fell  
and at a high table a girl tore at her chain  
as a goblin struck her again and again.

As the cleansed outside met interior messy  
the two elements battled for supremacy  
but the putrid was the stronger,  
the squalor would linger a while longer.

So as Gildor tried to sing he found the beauty gone  
and for all his great power he couldn't go on  
channelling magic is so rancid a hall  
without spending himself to certain fall.

For the corrupted room was mightier than  
he could handle in the span  
of the few seconds he had to act  
before the goblin could react.

So he went for his sword, a gleaming star  
for 'twas imbued in the forges in Valamar  
Where stands forever the ancient homes  
of the great nation of the Gnomes.

The goblin turned and Gildor swung  
their blades met and metal rung  
but Gildor's sword so far ahead  
broke its foe taking the goblin's head.

The building now clear of their foe  
Gildor turned to look about with woe  
for this was no nice place to be  
and all around him he could see  
prisoners chain and tied upon the wall  
of the Oatbarton Town Hall.

There hobbits and men in filth had been kept  
male, female, young and old - Gildor wept  
and upon another table laying close to death  
was one badly injured elleth.

They couldn't leave anyone hanging so low  
but they had to get them out quickly and so  
with the last of his voice Gildor issued a geas  
a chant of unwinding, a song of release.

And the chains shrivelled to rust and to rot  
but Gildor was spent and he sagged on the spot  
so the sons of Elrond took up the task  
of healing the wounded - it was a big ask.

While Isengrim stood as lookout in case  
the goblins should return with club and with mace  
and for the best as it turned out  
for more goblins came for another bout.

Isengrim held firm and did solemnly slay  
many a goblin sieging the doorway  
'til his axe broke and he looked up in fear  
"Just when did an Olog-hai get here?"

Gildor tossed him his own sword, he watched as it bit  
into the troll's side, oh what a hit  
it scattered the goblins as it limped in a rout  
and Isengrim took this chance to keep them out.

He was helped by a freed hobbit (Daisy Oatfoot her name)  
and though he could manage he was pleased all the same  
to have the assistance of any he could find  
helping them get out of the bind.

They gathered chairs, unused tables, bits of wood  
and piled them into a barricade that should  
hold for a while but in vain Elladan cried out  
he'd locked them within rather than goblins without.

But for a time it seemed the ranger was right  
the goblins declined to force their way in for a fight  
but their anger had grown and in their ire  
they turned to a different tactic - fire.

Oil was poured through what gaps could be found  
and for a moment there was no sound  
but then came a goblins voice filled with might  
"Somebody gets us a light."

More shouts could they hear,  
that assaulted any ear,  
it seemed a fight broke out  
but soon all was quiet about

'til the greatest taunt that they could bring  
the horde outside began to sing  
in very heavily accented westron  
a chorus of victory, a post-battle song.

 _The nights were long, days were gone,  
_ _and all the grief laid on.  
_ _The webs were spun, towns overrun,  
_ _and cries for help unsung._

 _In shadowed hands, evil stands,  
_ _and dark things roam the lands.  
_ _Both far and near, we did fear,  
_ _can't remember next part... something veer._

Despite it all Gildor chuckled  
and once again stood unbuckled.  
The goblin chief would be annoyed  
knew he that their 'song' left elf-lord buoyed.

From that point on the song changed time  
the only constant being a rhyme  
of some form or another remained  
which stuck out sore to anyone trained.

 _Far in the gloom appeared a light,  
_ _glowing brighter, filling our sight.  
_ _In its glow we found our fight,  
_ _and proudly marched out to the height._

 _Setting northwards at a run,  
_ _silver stars fluttering in the sun._

 _Atop the hills with our foe pinned,  
_ _black line unbuckling in the wind._

 _We shot and we shot, arrows blackened the skies,  
_ _And then a clash! Our enemy flies.  
_ _With victory comes an incredible 'cheer!',  
_ _and then it was home - to have a good beer._

 _The bells were rung, the songs sung  
_ _um... words words words words wrung...  
_ _For we are here, put to rear  
_ _the foes, they're nowhere near._

Not only Gildor was fuelled by that  
for Daisy bolted from where she was sat  
and to the barricade she went  
before any could stop her it was rent  
and in madness she walked out to the street  
and threw herself upon the feet  
of the figure who was standing there  
"Oh Brandobras" she cried, "none's ever looked so fair."

And Gildor and the twins and Isengrim too  
looked upon this miracle and learned that he slew  
the goblin chieftain in a duel  
and drove the goblins to their downfall

When this was heard it was scant believed  
that the greatest of goblin heads a halfling had cleaved  
and to this the hobbit gave a loud snort  
and said he sent it so far he invented a sport.

"And that all of you is the truth of the story  
the battle is over Miss Oakfoot, we have vic-tory."  
And Gildor was heartened beyond any measure  
for this unlooked for result gave incredible pleasure.

So he sang for the future of town so betrayed  
'til the pots brimmed with hope, his fears allayed.  
They returned to Imladris with tales of goblins cowed,  
the nation they'd forgot had done the north proud.

* * *

 **An:** We all have our foes  
so please point out any typos.


End file.
